


Sonata for a Good Man

by Wallyallens



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, RipFic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallyallens/pseuds/Wallyallens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara is sent forward through time and wakes up at the Time Masters Academy. She has to remain undetected long enough for her team to rescue her - but is distracted by meeting Rip Hunter from that era, the younger version of the man she knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sonata for a Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> first TC fic for the timecanarysquad aka my girls <3
> 
> I do not own any of the characters used, all rights go to DC etc. Title from a piece of music from 'the lives of others'.

When Sara woke up, the first thing she felt was the cold.

It seeped through her body, the chill spreading from her spine through to every other bone, into every crack and scar, flat and consuming. The cold was not a fire. A lot of people got that impression after watching Len and Mick, like two sides of a coin – they thought fire and ice was a different variation of the same burn.

It wasn’t. Sara had spent enough time in places inhabitable to anyone but the most highly trained against it to know the difference between hot and cold – her time in the League of Assassins had taught her that; she could survive almost everywhere. Heat was an itch, a prickling of sunlight against the skin or trickle of sweat, the scraping of a parched throat and cracked skin of not being able to find a drop of water. Heat was a burn, an inferno scorching and leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. 

Heat killed you fast.

Cold, now that was a slow feeling. It didn’t burn, it wasn’t a sudden flash or striking feeling – that was what made it dangerous. The cold crept up on you. Slowly, sometimes without you even noticing, it invaded your body, undetectable until the moment your teeth struck together in a chatter, and the ache of freezing limbs distinguished itself from the pain of every other thing in your life. 

And wherever she was, it was freezing. 

Out of a sense of self-preservation, Sara kept her eyes closed even as she was pulled from the darkness of unconsciousness, the world around her blurring until it came into focus as her senses returned one by one. It started with a tickle of a breeze on her bare arms and the feeling of being cold, unable to hide the shivers that ached in her ribcage. Sound returned a second later, bringing with it a void. It was quiet, but the roaring silence of a city at night rather than an absence of sound. She could hear the fait whoosh of vehicles, the crackle of static and life in the air; it was not day-time. There was no sunlight touching her skin, it was the sound of rest. Night ruled the space around her.

It was only when the numbness left the rest of her body that it hit her.

“Ugh,” Sara groaned, finally opening her eyes in a wince and rolling onto her side, propping herself up on her forearms and forcing out slow, calm breaths to fight the waves of nausea attacking her system. Through her cracked lids, she saw concrete underneath her own pale hands, the lack of light proving her theory that it was night. She would have grinned in satisfaction, if it weren’t for the fact that she would throw up if she moved at all.

Sara recognised the effects of time travel well enough by now.

Although out of everyone, she was the least affected because of her training, having learned years ago to push aside severe jetlag as an inconvenience, used to having to keep an international body clock. The jumps they had been doing as a team left her nauseous for less than a minute before she acclimatised. To feel like this, she must have gone further than ever before.

Blinking fiercely, a pang of worry surged through her – where was her team? From the sounds, she was surely alone. Sara focused, trying to recall what had happened before she blacked out. But although she forced her mind back, nothing but a vague image of blue and a shadowy shape would form itself from the dust of her mind, drifting just out of reach like smoke on the wind.

Something about the light was familiar, the hue the same as the time limbo she could see from the window whenever Rip piloted the ship, but she was not in the ship, she was alone, and from her scattered memories she was confident that before she was . . . wherever, _whenever_ , she was – she had been outside, with her team. 

The figure too, he was familiar. A black scar, a spectre on her heels –

But, like broken glass mixed in with sand, the danger remained elusive in her memory. For now, no matter how hard she tried, he remained a step out of reach.

Which left her . . . stranded. Somewhere. 

Scrabbing for her communicator, she spotted her earpiece a few feet away, shoving it desperately in her ear and praying this could all be solved quickly. The void of sound at the other end was not hope-inspiring, but she still tried.

“Hello? Can anyone hear me?”

Silence met her, as deafening as being crushed underwater. There was nothing – no breath, no voice, not even the sound of static that filled their channel between words. It was dead. There was no one there.

A weary sigh left her as the nausea subsided, leaving Sara collapsed on the ground, turning her head to scan the area for some clue as to where she had landed. Although outside, she seemed to be in a compound, buildings surrounding her on all sides – tall structures, blades thrust into the sky – and there, beyond those buildings, the city she could hear. Darkness surrounded her, but that city shone.

Defiantly, beams of light collided with a starless sky, glass buildings gleaming with metal edges and unlike anything she had ever laid eyes on, a design seemingly seamless, like the city had grown instead of being made. The buildings slotted together in perfect harmony, not a single crooked tower out of place, and weaving through them, a train-line of some sort flew through the sky – a monorail! But this architecture was not that of a foreign past, no, it was the future she had always imagined.

It wasn’t like Star City 2046. Instead of a wasteland, it looked a utopia. 

For it to be like that, she thought, she must be a long, long way from home. A future so distant, not a trace of the world she had known could be seen in the skyline, even the buildings themselves so different than the brick and concrete jungle she was the queen of. Looking out, it was as if the world she knew had never existed at all.

Sara gasped for a breath, pulling herself away from those thoughts. Only panic and misery lay on that train of thinking, and she was swapping lines before it was too late; besides, it wouldn’t help her. It didn’t matter where or when she was, Sara knew her team was coming for her. She just had to navigate this future long enough for them to catch up.

Pushing herself to her feet, the bite of the cold against them enough to make her wince, jumping from one to another to try and regain some heat, she silently assessed which building would be her best bet at getting to the city, or finding someone to ask when she was. They looked similar to the city, but was apart from it, separate, and now entirely in darkness. Deciding on a hangar-like building to her left, which was by no means the biggest but reminded her of a military barracks – and as she had no weapons, only her White Canary suit – that was her first point of call.

Arm herself. Find out the date. Hopefully, find a coat before she froze to death. 

Whoever designed her costume did not have chilly weather in mind, and she rubbed her bare arms furiously as she marched towards the hanger, heading first to the inky shadows shrouding the walls before making her way towards the building. It took her less than a minute to find an unlocked door, sneaking into the hangar silently and being rewarded by dim lights inside, the overhead ones still out but side lights, green in tinge, illuminating the vast space, filled with planes, from what she could make out.

Squinting, Sara approached one of the planes. The quiet padding of her feet fell silent as she recognised the skeleton of a ship, the curves and glow of cheery yellow light a sight she had become accustomed to – creeping forward, she walked towards it until she could read an inscription on the side: it was the Waverider. 

But at the same time, it wasn’t. It was the bare bones of what it would be, unfinished. 

Eyes moving to a sign on the wall, an insignia she could just make out and looming over the spaceship hanger like an omnipresent God, something she had seen before on the pages of Rip’s journal. It triggered something. Then her memories returned, flashing back to her: the fight – Kronos, with a gun aimed at a defenceless Jax, saying he was going to send them to their judgement. The fleeting thought that she was not letting the kid go like that. Running in front of him as a jet of blue left the Mercenary’s gun. A voice, screaming her name.

The writing was literally on the wall. Sara’s suspicions were confirmed, sinking like a stone in her stomach.

She was at the Time Masters Academy. 

*

The sun was in the sky, wearily dragging itself out from below the horizon, pale but a grateful rush of warmth. Sara had made her way around the compound after her realisation, trying to figure out the purpose of each building while the Time Masters slept on, oblivious of her presence there; of the bounty their hired gun had sent them. From the lack of the rest of her team there, Sara could only guess they had escaped after she had been hit – the shot not to kill, but to bring her there. 

There was a hangar, an armoury, what resembled a college dorm, and a grand looking circular hall which spiralled out into a set of corridors, creating the vortex that she assumed was the main teaching area. It was a maze, but there were plenty of air vents and corners to hide away in, although the door locks themselves were proving to be a problem: electronically controlled by passes she saw people carrying around. Security was tight, with guards patrolling certain areas, but it wasn’t impossible to get around.

That was, it wouldn’t be impossible to get around if she didn’t stick out like a sore thumb in her outfit. Stealing a set of plain grey robes she found in a cupboard, which didn’t completely hide the vibrant white of her costume but would do to disguise her from afar, from any quick glance in her direction, she prayed nobody took a closer look. It would have helped to take her costume off completely, but there was no way in hell she was risking loosing it. She hadn’t felt that comfortable in fighting clothes for years; it fit like a glove and she hated to admit it, but Cisco had done a phenomenal job on it. 

Assuming they were the simple robes of the students, different from the guard’s uniforms and the odd person she would see dressed semi-normally, in suits or long coats or even grander robes, who she believed to be the Time Masters teaching at the academy, as the campus slowly woke up with the arrival of the sun, Sara began to walk just behind clusters of students as they milled about, trying not to look conspicuous. Really, she was trying to catch a glance of a paper with a date to place herself in, however they all seemed to be carrying around some kind of tablets, screens bright and as if glued to the student’s hands. 

It took her almost ten minutes to lift one, and honestly, Len would be disappointed in her.

Letting a self-confident smirk creep onto her face as she dashed around the corner from her unsuspecting victim with it, she tapped a nail to the screen. It showed a girl’s face and profile, the time, and the date. It was a number she wasn’t even going to try and say out loud. It also announced her to be in ‘Vanishing Point’.

Safe to say, she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

Gut lurching, Sara stood in a shadowed corner, just watching people pass by for a moment. Young faces flew by, and they looked almost normal – there were people laughing with their friends, couples holding hands, and like any college campus – idiot boys chasing each other through the halls, whooping and causing a great deal of chatter. She had been one of those, once. Just a kid at school. 

That was a long time ago. Before the Island, before Oliver and Nyssa and . . . her team. The feeling grew as her thoughts lingered on them, growing heavier, clouding her attention. If they were all together right then, they would be having breakfast in the Waverider – although nobody was ever quite sure it was even breakfast time anymore. Time blurred into missions and sleeping on the Waverider. But in the quiet between missions they had been relishing when this had happened, breakfast was sacred.

Len did most of the cooking. Having to look after his sister from a young age, he had gotten skilled at it over the years, making eggs and bacon and toast, never letting a thing burn – even despite Mick’s ‘help’. The taller man took his toast burnt black and would smirk at all of their disgusted faces as he ate it without blinking. She hadn’t worked out if that was just to mess with them or not yet.

Kendra was in charge of drinks, after making the ‘I used to be a barista’ point so often they all just started handing cups to her in the morning, bleary eyed and exhausted. She laughed, but made a damn good pot of coffee anyways. It was what she knew, a drop of normality, a smell of home in the insane world they all lived in now.

Ray got plates and cups out of the tallest cupboards, passing them down to Jax, who set the table dutifully. They were both, of course, morning people. Even as they did their simple chore in the early hours, Ray was perpetually cheerful about it, and mostly Jax was too tired to complain. He ate double the food the rest of them did, too, so the youngest of the group was also left with the washing up more times than not.

Stein did not help with breakfast. He would come in about halfway through smelling of that old-man aftershave he used and grumbling that they all took so long in the shared bathroom that he was never able to get ready until they had all left. Jax would silently pass him a coffee and toast, his simple breakfast, and the scientist got considerably more agreeable after that.

Rip would sit with them, but they could rarely tempt him to eat. He’d take a coffee black and stand at the counter instead of sitting, already dressed by then despite a majority of them sitting in pyjamas (in Jax’s case, this meant a Flash T shirt he swore Stein had got him). Always listening, he would sometimes crack a smile at their chatter as they ate half the kitchen in a sitting, but kept himself closed off, apart from them. 

Outside, looking in.

But it was an isolation of his own making, and Sara knew why he did it. If you didn’t let anyone in, it hurt less when they left. And Rip had already lost so much that to bear the weight of friendship – even family, as she was beginning to think of the team – it would be too much.

She worried about him a lot. 

Without even knowing it, Sara had stood in the corner for a while, a small smile gracing her lips even as tears slipped down her face. Suddenly, as the students all headed towards the same room and she swiped her eyes, following them, she felt very, very lonely.

*

Sitting in what looked like a future lecture hall, a man standing at the front unpacking a few things from a bag as students took their seats, talking between one another in hushed, excited breaths, Sara hoped she was blending in. It was like being back at college in so many ways. Taking a seat in the centre of the hall, inconspicuous and at the end of the row should she need to leave quickly, Sara sat quietly, trying to scan the hall without looking like she was casing the place.

Eyes flicking from what she assumed was the professor to the students around her, Sara catalogued any potential threats in seconds as she took stock – but froze when her gaze landed on a familiar face. Sitting across from her in the front row, sitting packed in tightly with other people but her eyes finding him in seconds among them, was Rip Hunter.

But not _her_ Rip. He was younger, for a start: face unlined, not the battleground of trenches forged by grief and worry she saw on his face on the Waverider. Here, Rip was smiling, his features smooth and carefree, lips turned into an honest-to-god tooth-showing grin. Her Rip didn’t smile often, and the ones he did bestow upon them were hard earned upturns of his lips a fraction, barely noticeable compared to the way his smile lit up the room, even from across it, as she watched. 

Young Rip was laughing with his friends, whispering to another man beside him, practically fidgeting in his seat, a blur of energy and excitement. She had known he was a boy scout in the Time Masters, but such enthusiasm from the man she knew didn’t commute, it was unbelievable. One thing she had always appreciated about Rip was his stillness; there were no sudden movements to make her flinch when she was with him, only an assured step, an unmoving shadow.

Seeing him now, the Rip she knew suddenly felt _wrong_. The stillness that calmed her was in fact unnatural, as if he had lead for bones and was too weary to move. The Rip sitting across from her, now he was alive, with scattered hands as he spoke, flowing movements, easy gestures. She didn’t even have to wonder what had changed him – she knew. Savage.

Sara knew hatred like an old friend. But to say the emotion that sprung up in her towards Savage then was new was not an exaggeration – it was raw and malignant, an ugly feeling. Savage had taken the life away from her friend, stole the very smile from his lips – and she wanted to tear the monster apart for it. If he were there right now, she would have, without hesitation, without doubt. 

Some people were just worth becoming a bullet for. And Sara would have burned herself out if it meant taking Savage down with her right then.

She was still staring at him when the professor started to speak, continuing to do so as the room grew dark around her, as Rip’s own eyes turned with rapt wonder towards the speaker. They shone with stars, and hope, breaking her heart a little more with each second that passed.

By the time the lecture was over, Sara only having paid half attention to it – from what she could tell, it was this class’ first few weeks at the academy. They were learning theory, how to protect the timeline and fly ships and fight, but they were a long way from becoming Time Master’s yet. This was where it all started for them; for Rip.

She wondered if it would be better if he knew what was coming, if he just turned away now, never became a Time Master, never lost his wife - 

For a while, she had looked for Rip’s future wife in the crowd, spotting the brunette sitting a few rows higher than him. Sara recognised the other woman from nights when Rip passed out to cheap whiskey and a translucent image projected in his office, a hologram, a false illusion he clung to, listening to the same recording over and over until sleep dragged his reluctant form into its arms. On those nights, Sara would go in once he was out, throw a blanket over him gently and turn off the hologram, taking the glass from his hand and placing it on the table after draining whatever was left herself. 

The real woman was different. Sara should have expected that, but for some reason to see Miranda in colour shocked her. Having grown used to the kind eyes and smile of the pale blue woman in the hologram, to see her in colour was vivid, the brown of her hair shining, the grey of the cadet uniform stark against cheeks tinged with pink. It hurt to look at this woman, knowing her future.

Throughout the lecture, neither Rip nor his future wife looked at each other. They had no idea what would happen to them in the future, not the love, or the pain, or any of it. Here and now, they were just people, as clueless as anyone is about the dark cloud hanging over them; except Sara could see it. 

_She_ knew.

It hurt to look, so the Canary turned away.

*

For almost an entire day, Sara went unnoticed. She walked the Academy freely and easily, using the hours to memorise her way around for the most part should she need to escape quickly, wiring a route to the armoury into her brain. But there was something about seeing Rip as he was then that wouldn’t quite leave her, so despite the fact that someone was more likely to notice her poorly-hidden costume in crowds, she followed him for most of the day, to lectures and talks, each time moving fractionally closer to where he sat. For the last lecture of the day, she sat directly behind him, close enough so that if the thought possessed her, she could reach out and touch him, tap him on the shoulder and talk to her friend.

But she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. This Rip was not the man she knew; he was a half-finished sentence, a mirage of her friend without the roots of that connection. He did not know her, yet. She was nobody to him.

So Sara held her hands and tongue, rushing out of that last talk for fear of breaking her silence. In her hurry, head bowed as she tried to push her way past the crowd of students filing out, desperate to put some space between her and him, she didn’t notice the guard walking down the hall as she left the room. She didn’t even register his presence, in fact, until she walked straight into him.

“I-” she stammered as she picked herself up from the floor, uniform left skewed by it, which she hurriedly rushed to straighten. The apology died on her lips as she noticed the guard watching her intently as he got to his feet, frowning slightly, eyes drifting over the white material exposed under the grey. Even as Sara rushed to jam the hat back over her face, hiding her features as best she could, she knew she was done for.

The Guard stopped her as she nodded awkwardly, turning to walk away. “What’s your name, cadet?”

“Anna Valentine, sir.” 

Sara did not hesitate as she replied; having committed the relevant information about the girl who’s security pass and tablet she had stolen, anticipating a confrontation like this. Tone even, respectful, she ignored the curious glances of the other students, head kept down – in what looked like respect, but actually just kept her face obscured. 

Noticing the attention, the Guard looked harshly at the students leaving the hall. “Keep moving, cadets! There’s nothing to see here.”

After a scurry of movement and not-subtle whispers, Sara was left alone in the hallway with the guard. This was both a good and a bad thing. It meant she could take him without witnesses, if it came to it. But he still only suspected her, and the longer she could stowaway undetected, the more time she bought her team to get there. The last thing Sara needed was to be held hostage by the Time Masters. 

Slowly, the Guard began to circle her. Movements slow and precise, he stalked around her in a close arc; fighting to remain still and not rise to the threat, Sara ignored his breath on her back and kept her head down. Honestly, she was showing a lot of self-restraint right then. The team would have been proud.

“Where are you from, cadet?” 

Sara answered with a place she had never even heard of. She assumed another planet, or a city renamed in the future, but she hadn’t had the time to find that out for sure. Kicking herself for not using her time more resourcefully, she tried to keep her breathing even.

“What’s it like?”

“What?” Sara blinked, adding a second later. “Sir.”

“Your home,” the Guard replied coldly. “What is it like?”

Seeing her options slip away fast, Sara forced an alluring smile onto her features, leaning towards him. She flipped her hair over her shoulder, “Well, you know what it’s like. Home is home. Most people will do anything to get away from it.”

“That’s not what I asked, Cadet,” the Guard replied. “I asked you to describe where you’re from. Tell me about it. _In detail_.”

He returned her smile, his own as fake as hers was, not even bothering to hide the satisfaction in it. He knew he had her number. When she hesitated a second too long, he tapped an earpiece. “Intruder in Sector 34, all units -”

The Guard was cut off from completing his order by Sara’s boot connecting with his temple. Unconscious without even a fight, she took one look at his prone form before taking off down the corridor, knowing there would be more guards on the way in minutes, wondering how long it would be before her door pass got deactivated and she would have to lift another one. That would be the first thing they would do, if the guards were smart about it. 

Sure enough, her pass stopped working four corridors away. Just her luck.

Although she frantically swiped the card over the door-reader, a key pad without keys and a tiny light that either turned green or red – now permanently blaring like blood and refusing to open – it seemed she was trapped. Footsteps were approaching, chugging with the consistency and volume of a squadron on the run, all coming towards her. She had a knife in her boot and her own fists. The guards had guns and armour.

Sara had infinite confidence in her own abilities – the League trained doubt out of her system, but even she had to admit the odds weren’t exactly in her favour.

Not that it would stop her from fighting.

Turning, Sara took off the cramped grey uniform, tossing it to the ground. Underneath, her Canary costume still shone, fitted to her form like a glove. Just the feeling of standing in it gave her hope. This was what she did best – kick ass, take names. The Time Masters might think they were all-knowing and all-powerful, but they hadn’t met her yet.

A grin had found its way onto her face as the footsteps got closer. At a guess, they were in the next corridor. She started a mental countdown to the upcoming fight.The seconds ticked, her fingers tightening on the knife in her hand. Although her heart-rate sped up a little, she kept her breathing low and even, steadying it. She needed to be focused. Her team relied on her not getting caught – if she was, she knew they would hand themselves in for her. Rip had betrayed the Time Masters, so she doubted they would go easy on him; she would _not_ let that happen. She was either going to escape this place with them, or die fighting. Between her own life and saving her team – there was simply no choice to make.

A second away from the fight, there was a beep behind her, and the door opened. Twisting with her knife raised in a second, Sara froze.

Standing in the open door was Rip. And after a glance behind her, hearing the guards approach from the look on his face, he held out a hand. “If you want to get out of here, follow me.”

Sara couldn’t think. Dumbstruck, she looked between the open hand and Rip’s face, even younger close up, yet familiar. In her head, the countdown kept ticking, the crack of boots on the floor getting louder. She just blinked at him, not quite able to move.

Even at the Academy, Rip was breaking rules. Still, she shouldn’t have been surprised – he broke the dating policy, stole a ship and recruited all of them for an illegal crusade, after all. Despite his restraint and ideals, Rip Hunter wasn’t the Golden Boy they all made him to be – she had seen it in him even when Len scoffed at the idea. That was the Rip before her now, floppy hair and a half nervous, half exhilarated look on his face; in his eyes, there was wariness, sure, but he was still holding out a hand to save a stranger, even back then. 

Rip was a rule-breaker, a trouble maker: quite possibly, her saviour.

Sara felt her grin return, sparing one last glance over her shoulder before turning back to Rip, stopping to grab her stolen cadet uniform and taking his hand, being pulled down corridors at a pace she couldn’t have sustained alone, the man leading her with confidence as they ran through hallways and through larger rooms, never pausing. They ran, chests heaving and lungs burning, hand in hand, until the noise of the guards faded, and all that was left was their own footsteps.

After a while of running, there were no signs of them being pursued. Coming to an empty hallway, the lights in that section dimmed the way they had been as she explored the night before. Rip released her hand, doubling over as they stopped.

“I think – we – lost them,” he panted, eyes flicking up to her. “You should put that back on; it makes you harder to spot in a crowd.”

He nodded to the uniform in her hand. Nodding in agreement, she shoved it hurriedly back on over her costume in seconds, smoothing it over so the white was completely hidden. When she looked up, Rip was still crouched with his hands on his knees, face scarlet. 

Sara had leant against the wall instead, letting her back press against it as her legs went slack, not nearly as fatigued as he was from their run. On the contrary, she was breathing quite normally as she waited for him to catch his breath, only the redness in her cheeks revealing that she had been running at all. In her strange clothes and lack of reaction to what had happened, she supposed he was just thinking that he might have made a mistake, as he stood quickly, taking a step away to stare at her with distrust.

“Who are you?” he asked. In his voice was a distance she recognised when she had first met him, his stance moving to defensive as he watched her, hawkish. But his eyes, they moved freely, and in them – he wanted to trust her. Straight away, she could see that. “Why were they after you?”

“Why did you help me?” she countered. 

He shrugged, “It didn’t seem like a fair fight.”

And there was Rip. Who had no reason to do so but saved a stranger from his own people just because the odds didn’t look even. A man who helped her simply because he thought it was the kind thing to do. 

Sara smiled, but this one was real. In the future, the others thought Rip was a selfish man. They believed he cared only about saving his own family. She knew they were wrong. 

“I guess you could call me a refugee,” she answered his first question, standing straight now. “A Time Refugee. I was sent here by mistake, I have to wait here for my team to get me. The guards were after me because I lied about who I was, and I did steal someone’s identity to get around today.”

There was no point in lying, she knew that. Rip would either believe her or he wouldn’t, but he had already freed her from the guards. She owed him the truth. As she spoke, his eyes shifted, and she recognised the signs of belief in them. Although still wary, he took a step towards her.

“You say you’re a _time_ refugee? You’re not from this era?”

She shook her head, “No. I’m a long way from home.”

“And your team,” Rip said thoughtfully. “Hypothetically, how long do you expect them to take to collect you from this time zone?”

“A few days at most, I can’t be sure. There was an accident . . .”

Trailing off, Sara bit her lip in worry. The truth was, she had no idea where or when her team were. Kronos could have captured them, transported them to anywhere, or they might have deemed the risk of rescuing her too much, although she doubted they would leave her behind. Despite her conviction that if they were able, they would come, she had no proof that was the case – for all she knew, she was stranded there. 

“It’s okay,” Young Rip said, mistaking her dilemma for worry about being discovered. All barriers down now, he had walked towards her, placing a kind hand on her shoulder, the small smile he aimed at her equally so. “I won’t tell the guards where you are. I know the Time Masters can be . . . _rigid_ , with the rules. If you are a refugee here, then it is asylum you seek. I can help you.”

“How?”

“You could stay with me,” Rip replied, like it was simple. “I have room, you could hide there and I could bring you food and water. You would be safe there, as long as -”

“Nobody caught us,” Sara finished, already shaking her head. Turning away from him, she took a few steps down the hall, hands shaking from un-used adrenaline built up for the fight. “No, no. It’s too dangerous. If they caught you . . .”

If they caught him, Rip would be expelled from the Academy. He would never meet his wife. His son would never be born. He would never lose them . . . For a moment, Sara wondered if that would be better. If this whole thing, all the dying and misery, would just go away if Rip never found out what it meant to lose your heart. Whether he would be happier . . .

But she pushed the thought away. As much as it hurt to lose someone, it was a far bigger loss to never have loved them at all. Jonas deserved to be born and be loved for the time he had. Rip deserved to be an honoured Captain. No matter how much it changed him to lose all of that, it made the man she knew, the one who saved her during a time she was wandering lost and gave her hands purpose again. 

She could not change the timeline. Which meant this idea was too much of a risk. 

“No, that can’t happen,” she said clearly, shaking her head. “It’s not your risk to take, Rip.”

“H-how do you know my name?”

 _Crap_. Sara felt the blush in her cheeks rise at the mistake, knowing that it would mess with the future too much to tell Rip that she knew him. Mind scrabbling for an answer, she babbled. “Uh. I – uh, I was in your classes today while I was hiding out. I must’ve, uh - I must’ve heard your name.”

There was a gleam in his eye again now. “And here I am at the disadvantage of not knowing yours.”

“ . . . Sara. My name is Sara Lance.”

“Well then, Miss Lance. I think it is _my_ choice whether or not I help you,” Rip said, moving back towards her with a determined look on his face. He offered her an arm. When she didn’t take it, he sighed, looking at her seriously. “I know what I am risking, trust me. All my life I’ve wanted to be here. But I also believe in doing what’s right . . . and for some reason, something which I might bloody regret, I think that is helping you. So please,” he caught her eye, “Trust me, Sara.”

She had put her trust in him what felt like a long time ago, so this time, it was easy to take his arm. If the blinding grin she got in return made her stomach flip, she didn’t let it show.

*

Rip’s room was tiny. If Sara had any cats, they sure as shit wouldn’t be swinging in there.

In each of the student’s cramped dorms, there was a low bed with a single pillow and blanket, a desk, and a small wardrobe in the corner. It didn’t leave much room for two, or spaces to hide if she had to. In her time, they would have called it minimalist: although kept to the basics, the clean whiteness of the walls and furniture made the room feel larger than it was, keeping the space clean. As they entered, a light came on automatically, so knowing they were out of sight as the door slid shut behind them, Sara allowed herself a sigh of relief. 

She walked in ahead of Rip, her eyes swivelling around the room as she did, noticing all of this first and then noticing the bareness of it all. Her college dorm had been the polar opposite: posters on the walls and clothes on the floor, having brought as much of home as she could with her. She had brought three boxes of photographs alone.

But Rip’s room was bare. There was nothing personal, no mementos or signs that he had lived a life before the Academy. She blinked confusedly at all of this, only noticing she was staring when the man in question coughed awkwardly behind her.

“Oh – I’m sorry,” she apologised quickly, stepping to the side so he could pass if he wanted to. Rip stood still, noticing her look, and raised his eyebrows inquisitively, not needing to speak to ask. She shrugged, “I just . . . where’s all your stuff? Didn’t you bring anything from home? This place is nice, but it’s not . . .”

She trailed off, not even sure of the words herself. It wasn’t like a home, was the idea behind it – the whole room felt like he would only be there for a few days, a temporary settlement. Like he was waiting to run away.

Rip smiled wistfully, bowing his head as his own eyes flicked around the room. “Ah. There’s this thing, you see . . . when you join the Time Master’s, you leave everything but your loyalty to them behind. We get new names, ones we choose. We exist only in our service to them.”

“What?” Sara blinked. Her Rip – or whatever his name really was – had never mentioned that. “But what about your home? Your _family_?”

“They are still there, and _here_ ,” he tapped a hand to his chest, smile growing nostalgic. “I chose this profession _for_ them. To keep them and _all_ families safe, Miss Lance. But it is a dangerous job, so we must conceal our true identities; save anyone we cross going into our own timelines and trying to eliminate them.”

Sara thought of Savage and how they had targeted him through time by a name, one scarred onto Rip’s brain. It made sense. It was like the League: she had been given a new name for a new life, living and dying by the Canary. But for her and for him . . . it was a sacrifice.

It was giving away yourself for others.

She nodded, understanding. “It’s Sara. Enough of the ‘Miss Lance’, okay?”

“We’ll see,” Rip smiled back, noting her acceptance. He nodded at her and she returned it, before his smile grew, as he checked his tablet quickly. “I’ll go to dinner, bring you something back here. I won’t be long, Miss Lance.”

The last part, he said a moment before he stepped out of the door, hearing her snort at the name he used as the door slid to behind him.

*

Sara sat on the bed while Rip was gone, thinking about catching a nap. She hadn’t slept since she had been sent there, and time travel always left her exhausted, the world’s worst case of jet-jag. Lying on the bed, on top of the covers but comfortable, she started at the blank ceiling, taking stock while letting her buzzing mind wander. She was in the future, with Rip before she knew him, and her team was coming. She _had_ to believe that.

She had one knife, her suit, a key-card that didn’t work anymore and a stolen tablet. There was no way to contact the others. The Time Masters knew there was an intruder now, but if she was lucky, they did not know who it was yet and there was no way to connect her to Rip and Savage.  
She was betting everything that this Rip was still the man she trusted and wouldn’t return with an army of guards. 

It was a lot of vague possibilities, maybes, and what if’s. Sara didn’t like that. She liked to know where she stood, even if that was just a place to make her final stand and fight; she liked things to be certain. Possibilities were like being on board the Gambit, they were drowning before seeing a yellow bird. Reality was concrete, the feeling of a weapon in her hand and the knowledge that she could use it to save herself. Certainty was a safety net she missed.

In the dimness after Rip had left, the room only cataloguing his presence to bring light, she lay and let the thoughts wash over her. These were not things she could change, so she could either stay miserable in them or make the most of the situation she had. She could try hope, just this once.

Sara sat up, resolved. Her mind fell quiet, the feeling bringing more relief than sleep would have, so she walked around the small room, keeping a mental list of things that could prove useful. She examined the space under the bed, deciding it would be suitable to sleep under, ran her hands along the desk until she was sure that if necessary, she could dismantle it quickly to use the legs for batons. That thought alone was golden, causing a smile to creep onto her face.

It was when she got to the wardrobe that she stopped in her tracks. It was filled with a set of grey uniforms like all the cadets wore, but hidden behind them at the back of the wardrobe as she noticed a glimpse of colour in the paleness, pushing them aside to find Rip’s brown coat. It was a lot cleaner than she had ever seen it, lacking the holes in the sleeve from burned through fire-fights, looking a lot fresher and less worn-in. It also looked as if it had been hanging there a long time.

She had taken it off the hanger and was turning it over in her hands when Rip walked back in an hour later. Seeing what was in her hands, he froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes widening, one foot in the room, one foot out. In his hands was a plate of food, but he didn’t notice the way her eyes hungrily shifted to it, focused on the coat in her hands. 

A flash of guilt burned through Sara. Rip had taken her in, and she had been snooping through his belongings. “I was just . . .”

“-It doesn’t matter,” he cut in firmly, coming inside now. The door shut behind him and Rip crossed the room to put the plate on the desk, turning to lean against it and look back at her, eyes still flicking to the coat in a haunted fashion. “I should be the one explaining. I want to be a Time Master, I do – but I’m not very good at following the rules.”

Sara shook her head, “Please, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“I want to,” he replied simply, looking back at her. There was that gaze again, burning and earnest, too hard to look at. “My father, he knew I wanted to come here. He’s the one that inspired me to do it, really - you could say he was my hero. The day before I came, he gave me that. Said it belonged to an old friend and he wanted me to have it.” Rip’s lip twitched sadly, eyes falling away as he spoke of his father. Hands tight against the desk, he briskly pushed himself up and walked back towards her, stopping with a hand out, forced smile on his face. “He said I would be honouring someone as good as family if I wore that once I became a Time Master. I know I shouldn’t have kept it, but-”

“No,” Sara shook her head. Pressing the coat firmly back into his hands, she left her own there for a moment, catching his eye. “You should keep it. Family, it’s the most important thing, Rip. Remember who you’re fighting for.”

His head fell to the side for a minute, looking down on her. Eyes soft, they stayed on hers for a moment too long; clearing his throat, Rip stepped away. The connection broken, he nodded. “Right. Well, I – you should eat. It’s getting cold.”

At his skittishness, Sara felt a smirk grow on her lips. “Plus, it suits you.”

“I didn’t even put it on!”

“I can just tell,” she replied smugly. Walking over to sit at the desk, she heard him hide the coat away, eating her plate of stolen vegetables and bread roll like she hadn’t eaten in weeks. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, to eat it all at once, but she was done thinking for the day. All she wanted was to eat and rest. 

It had been a long day. 

*

“How did you come to be lost in time?”

She was sitting at the desk, drumming her fingers against it. It had been a while since dinner, but they had been awkwardly skirting glances in each other’s direction ever since. It was obvious Rip had things he wanted to ask; she would catch him watching her curiously, only to blush red when he was caught and eyes dart quickly away. If she was in his shoes, helping a stranger who claimed to be a refugee in time, she supposed she would have questions, too.

“Accident,” she shrugged. If she told him too much, he could figure out either his own involvement or that she was on the run from the Time Masters for more than being lost in his time. For now, she tested the water between them, looking back. “I was on a mission, you could say. There was a man after us, he shot me with something, and I ended up here.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the Time Masters?”

“I have issues with authoritarian agencies. And trust issues on top of that,” she smiled sweetly in his direction, catching his look of surprise. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m a curious person.”

She snorted, “How about you take it down a peg or two for now, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, nodding. Then he looked back towards her, resting on the edge of his bed with his elbows resting on his knees, face on the edge of flirtatious. Eyes teasing, he tilted his head to one side. “Why do you have trust issues?” 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m gonna answer that one.”

“What was your mission?”

Sara felt her own lips twitch into a smirk. Turning, she straddled the chair now, leaning on the back of it to face him fully. He didn’t sit too far away, close enough for her to catch his micro-expression of panic before he masked it again, lips setting into a challenging line. This Rip was more fun that hers, the Rip who recruited them cared only about whether or not they could get the job done. _This_ Rip was arrogant enough to think he could analyse _her_. 

Yeah, right. “That’s classified.”

Seeing that line of questioning was getting him nowhere, Rip the younger changed his smirk into a more genuine smile. “Were you really going to try and fight all those guards back there? You can’t really believe you’d win.”

“I didn’t _think_ I’d beat them all,” Sara replied confidently, leaning forward to whisper. “I _knew_ I could.”

Rip laughed, hands leaving his knees to clap together, rocking backwards on his bed, eyes going to the ceiling. She found the sound made the room lighter. 

He looked back towards her, eyes alight with victory at finally getting an answer, pushing it further. “Who taught you to fight?”

“I did.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” Sara answered his vagueness with her own, shrugging with her entire body, one hand waving easily as her eyes swung around the room. Landing back on her companion, she saw the way his entire being swaggered with a confident joy she had never seen of him, a cocksure kid that she imagine died alongside his wife. 

For now, she put that thought to bed. Getting to know this Rip might give her a deeper understanding to help his older self.

One eyebrow arched up, “Why?”

“Necessity. I had to fight or die. I chose the answer that meant getting home to my family,” she replied, voice light but words anything but. The truth was that the island, the league, all of it – it still haunted her. Seeing this, Rip’s own picture of teasing sobered, face falling slack until he noticed the way her own jumped in fear of him questioning that further, instead twisting into a more genuine look.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“What?”

“You must have a favourite colour, Miss Lance,” Rip said softly, hand resting on the bed to lean closer to her. Speaking as though conspiratorially, or a confession, he smiled in a way she believed, no act – just him. “I like blue, personally. Apparently it’s the colour of limbo when you fly a time ship. When I was a child, every night I would look up at the sky, at the stars – I always wanted to get closer to them. That’s the colour. So,” he asked, “What’s yours?”

Sara thought. Green was pride at what Oliver had achieved, but also the horror of Lian Yu. Black was the same for her sister – but also a flashback of assassins. Red was blood: hers, others, all mingling and staining her hands. Before everything, she had liked pink and purple, but that Sara Lance had died a long time ago.

The answer came to her in a memory of birdsong. A soft smile crossed her face as her eyes focused back on Rip, who was still watching her intently. 

“Yellow. My favourite colour is yellow.”

*

That first night, she lay under the bed in darkness. On her back, she looked at the bottom on the bed above her, seeing the slight dip of Rip’s body as he lay, although his breathing told her he was awake, too. They had talked for a little after her meal before deciding to call it a night. He told her about his studies, about what he hoped to do one day. 

“Where are you from?”

Rip asked the question in a voice so gentle she almost missed it, blinking at the sudden sound. It was muffled by the bed but loud enough and she replied in kind, just above a whisper. He spoke from above her, breathing mingled in a natural rhythm as the bed dipped; when he breathed in, she breathed out. 

“I told you, a long way away.”

“When? The way you dress . . . I’ve been studying Earth’s past, but I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re so strange, Sara. It’s like you’re timeless.”

She allowed herself a light laugh at that, hand trailing out to her side, just peeking out from underneath the bed, if Rip were to look. “I’m from 2016. And you’re right; people don’t dress like me, even back then. My suit was specially designed. It’s not fashion, its necessity.”

“Suit?” he asked. “2016 . . . would you like to know how the 21st century is remembered throughout all of history, Sara?”

“As a time of bad politics and worse music?” she guessed with a light laugh, but Rip’s voice was serious, awe-struck as he replied.

“It was the golden age of heroes. In our records, even in the stories passed down through generations, things parents tell their children before bed – they tell about those heroes. It is remembered as a time where humanity fought for one another, and the common courage of a single person could defeat the greatest of evils.” 

He paused, letting his words hang in the air. Tantalising, golden, they hung there all about them, and Sara sucked in a breath from where she lay, allowing herself to believe that. Rip had said they weren’t legends in the future – but maybe her friends were.

Maybe her sister was. Laurel and the Black Canary, a legend to inspire others the way she did Sara, too. 

That would be enough. 

She could hear the hope in Rip’s voice as he went on. “Are you a hero, Sara? Is that how you got here?”

“No, Rip. I’m not.” Although the words did not sound happy, her voice sounded positively joyous. In the softness of it, he could hear the curve of her smile, could picture it in the darkness. In Sara’s mind, that was the truth. She wasn’t a hero. Looking up to where he lay, she admitted, “I know them, though. I’m friends with them. I – I’m trying.”

“Then I find it very hard to believe you do not count yourself among them. You wear a suit to protect, speak of honouring family, and -” he let his own hand dangle not far from hers, drifting in the air. “I think you’d make a rather good hero, Miss Lance.”

For a moment, Sara thought about touching his hand; letting her own fingers trace it, ghost across his palm and linger there. Then she scoffed jokingly and slapped it away, earning a chuckle from the man above as she laughed. “Whatever. I’ll never get to be a hero if you talk me to death. Go to sleep, asshole.”

“Goodnight, Miss Lance.”

“I told you to call me Sara,” she replied, already feeling sleep pull at her. “Or if you must call me something else – they call me the Canary.”

*

The next day, it took her ten minutes to convince Rip to go to class and leave her there. He had wanted to skip and stay with her, not liking the idea of her being there alone all day, but had relented after she pointed out it would be suspicious if he didn’t go. Besides, he had things to learn.  
Rip had rolled his eyes at that as he left.

Once he was gone, Sara started formulating her plan. It had been an entire day and she didn’t know if her team were any closer to finding her, however before she had fallen asleep the night before an idea had formed in her mind. Awaking groggily but thankfully still remembering, she had began putting things together, and a little while after Rip had gone, she slipped out of the room. 

Again, guilt kicked at her insides. Rip might worry if he returned and she was gone, and she felt bad about lying to him, but he was already too involved – no, she would do this alone. He was safer in class while she played spy around campus.

It took her less time to lift a key-card that day. This time, she wore her hair tied up to be less noticeable and pulled through the loop of her cap, pulled low over her face. Luckily, Sara was very good at not being seen unless she wanted to be. The most important thing was to walk confidentially and quickly, never there long enough or looking suspicious enough to draw a second glance. 

She strolled easily past guards through the campus until she got to where she wanted at what she hoped was around lunch time – the hangar she had seen on her first night.

As she had guessed, a lot of the people were leaving towards the mess hall as she entered, nodding at few and mumbling about leaving her tablet on a work station. They all filed out, leaving her alone in the hangar so after making sure that was true by checking all the hiding spots, she made a beeline for the Waverider. From her time on it once it was finished, she knew how to open the ship, climbing onto the deck a moment later, looking around. 

It was almost as strange as it was to see younger Rip. The Waverider had become almost a second home to her, so to stand in its bare bones, the metal still shining and new, to un-lived in to make sense, was an unreal experience. This was her plan, as long a shot as it was.

“Uh . . . Gideon?”

When the AI answered, she jumped. “Yes, Miss . . . ?”

“I am evoking the Allen Protocol,” she replied quickly, remembering what Kendra had told her. Gideon had been created by the Flash at some point in the future; she could not refuse any of his commands, and the ‘Allen Protocol’ gave the Flash’s authority over the AI to the speaker. It was useful when ‘convincing’ Gideon not to snitch on her, Mick and Snart for sneaking out to bars during missions, so she hoped it still worked now. “My name is Sara Lance. Whatever I say, you have to obey me, right?”

“That is correct, Miss Lance,” Gideon replied. “The Allen Protocol gives all base commands to you.”

“Good,” she nodded, “Right, okay. First, you will not tell anyone else about this, please. It’s a secret. Second . . .” she winced, knowing it was a long shot. “If I, for example, gave you a message to store and then deliver in the future at a designated time, could you do it?”

“Of course, Miss Lance.”

Sara breathed a sigh of relief, eyes closing in the moment. “Okay. _Okay_. I need you to save this message for Captain Rip Hunter, on the date . . .”

*

By the time she had left her message and returned, Rip was waiting for her. As she opened his door, he sat up quickly from the bed, expression worried as he stopped in front of her, hand falling to her arm as if to confirm she was real. It tightened there, his worried face just a few inches from her own.

“Thank God, Sara. I thought you’d been found! Where were you?”

“I – I had to go and -” she stammered, shocked at how concerned he seemed. As he had said her name in relief, it was barely a breath, a reverence to the way he said it. Eyes running across his face as he stood close enough to feel his breath, she became flustered and guilty, “I managed to get a message to my team! I did it, Rip. I told them where I was, they should be able to find me now.”

He looked hurt, eyes flicking across her face before growing smaller in suspicion. “You were planning this?”

“I suppose so, yeah. I thought about it last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, face frustrated now. When his hand fell from her arm, it burned with the absence of it. “I could have helped you! What would have happened if you had been caught?”

“Nothing, not to you – that was the point,” she argued back. “You would have been safe. That’s all that matters. What I did was my choice; you’ve risked enough for me.”

“And what? You never come back and I’m just left here?” he asked, growing steadily more emotional. Anger played in the way his eyebrows shot up expressively as he spoke, but his eyes were just sad, hurt shining in them. Every few seconds, he would let out a little breath, a gasp, a sound of disbelief and betrayal. “Do you really think so little of me that you’d assume I would not look for you? I would have broken into the Time Master’s Council myself to see if you had been captured, Sara. I would have come for you.”

Sara was shaking her head, refusing to meet his eye. The hurt he wore was her fault now, it stung. “I never asked that of you.”

“You didn’t have to,” he snapped irritably. Hands on his hips, he let out a sound of frustration, moving back towards her again and stopping close, “Like it or not, we’re in this together now. I wish you would trust me-”

“-I _do_.”

“Then trust me to make my own decisions,” he replied, again looking down into her eyes. “I didn’t have to help you, I chose that. I believe you that you mean no harm, I care about – I care about what happens to you,” he stumbled on his words. “Next time you do something like this, _tell me_. I have your back, Miss Lance.”

Stunned to silence, all Sara could bring herself to do was lock her jaw shut and nod. 

“I’ll go and get us some food. I shan’t be long.” 

It was still cold between them as Rip left, leaving Sara even more confused behind him. She needed to protect him, for that she wouldn’t apologise; for the sake of their timelines not collapsing, he needed to be in the Academy long enough to become a Time Master, steal a ship, and recruit her for a revenge mission. But now there was a pang in her gut at the thought of the worry she had caused, the look on his face just then haunting. She hated to be its cause.

He wanted to help, that was all. Surely she could keep him out of trouble for as long as it took her team to arrive?

Rip came back fifty minutes later, knocking quietly before he came in. She had been sitting in the chair at the desk, nervously tapping her hands against it as she waited for him to come back. At the noise, she twisted, jumping to her feet when she saw it was him.

“-I’m sorry.”

“-I’m sorry.”

They apologised in the same breath, looking at one another and laughing when they realized what they had done. Rip let the door shut behind him, holding out the plate of food between them as a peace offering. 

“You have nothing to apologise for, Miss L- Sara. _Sara_ ,” he said, making her smile deepen to a grin by using her name. “Here.”

“I do. I should have told you what I was planning to do, at least,” she replied. Taking the plate, she nodded her thanks. “You’ve done a lot for me and I owe you that much. It was selfish to not tell you.” With a second’s pause, she added. “I’m not sorry for trying to protect you, though.”

“Then you’ll just have to forgive me for the same transgression.”

“Agreed,” she grinned, the atmosphere clicking back into place around them again. The coldness of Rip’s departure was erased with a smile, she turned, dropping her plate on the desk and sitting to eat, this time stopping to savour the taste. For future-food, it was pretty good. Pointing with her fork, she turned back to Rip, who had sat on his bed. “So. Have you ever thought about what comes next? Being a Time Master?”

She only said the name half-mockingly, making him smile. “Since I was child, if I’m honest. I just knew I wanted to help people – and see the world.”

“What’s the furthest you’ve made it so far?”

“Here,” he answered honestly, leaning back more comfortably on the bed. Lying, he kicked his shoes off, tucking his arms behind his head and angling his head so he could still see her. “I can’t even fly a ship yet, we don’t start training for another six months. But as soon as I can . . . to be able to go out there, to have all of time and space at your feet – can you imagine? I could stand at the fall of Babylon, or find out what really happened to the Library of Alexandria . . . I could meet Shakespeare. Although maybe not, they say never to meet your heroes.” 

Rip shrugged bashfully at his admission, glancing away from Sara’s soft smile to let his gaze rest on the ceiling. It was as blank as it had been when Sara had lay the same way the day before, but in his eyes she could see the entire universe. 

“I could see the heroes my father told me about; even meet his friend, the one whose coat he gave me. I could see them together in the golden days. I could even pop to 2016 to visit you,” he aimed a grin at her, sighing contently. “I want to see _everything_.”

“You will.”

“You can’t know that,” he replied, tilting his head back to her. “Unless you’re a prophet as well as a hero now?”

“I told you, I’m not a hero,” Sara repeated, accepting the teasing. As he was speaking, she had finished eating, resting her head on her hands, leaning against the back of the chair to look at him. When he only nodded confidently in response to her protest, she rolled her eyes. “Okay then. Maybe I’m a hero and you’re the greatest captain the Time Masters ever see in the future. How does that sound?”

“Legendary, Miss Lance.”

At his choice of words, her face grew still, smile dropping to the floor. Although her eyes remained fixed on him there and then, Rip aged before her eyes at the words, until she was standing on a rooftop being told she was a legend all over again. That night . . . as it was happening, she didn’t quite believe it, she didn’t know what to think. But that had been it for her. The moment her life changed; the clean slate she dreamed of.

In all his speeches about saving the world and carving their names into history, Rip had made them out to be the heroes, had made her start to believe she could be, too. He claimed they could save the world, or at least his own fractured life. The truth was, he had saved her just as much.

After the pit, she hadn’t known what to do with her second life. She couldn’t be at home – it didn’t feel the same, her entire world didn’t – like she was half a step out of synch with it after dying. Some days, she felt like she hadn’t really come back at all. She was a ghost walking the streets in search of something real.

Then along came Rip and the Waverider. Something to fight for again, something worth spending her second chance on. Sara knew her way: she needed a cause to pledge herself too. She lived her life a second away from dying, not that she minded - life on the Waverider was on her rhythm, the running, the fighting and arguing, chasing a spectre of Savage throughout time. That world fit her now, belonging in a place outside of time and reality. 

As long as she had something worth dying for, she wasn’t even afraid of doing it again.

“Sara?”

While she stared into empty space, Rip had sat, moving to the end of the bed to look at her with concern, only the feeling of his hand on her arm waking her up. As soon as she blinked suddenly, flinching back to the present, he immediately removed his hand at her jump, holding them out to her in peace instead. “Are you okay?”

“Just thinking,” she made an apologetic face in his direction, scrunching her eyes closed. “I’m sorry. I don’t think my head has quite caught up to this time yet.”

Rip’s lip turned up sympathetically. A moment later, he gestured with his head for her to sit beside him, moving to sit with his back against the wall and gangly legs so long they shot past the width of the bed, unlike they did when he lay normally. It left room for her to sit beside him that way. 

“Sap,” she teased at the sentiment, but moved to sit beside him when his only response was to pat the space next to him cheerfully. This Rip was still so strange to her, the one who spoke openly and engaged with people, with _her_. He made no reservation about wanting to spend time with her and talk, closing the distance the way the Rip she knew never had. 

They sat side by side, shoulders barely touching. Rip’s feet still dangled in the air, but Sara tucked her own legs up, bent at the knee so they stayed on the bed. It was quiet for a moment, where all she could hear was their breathing and feel the ghost of a touch at their hips.

Rip was the one to break it. As evening drew in around them, he looked over to her, “Tell me about them.”

“About who?”

“Your team,” he clarified, shrugging. “The one you managed to contact today. From the way you mention them, how certain you are that they would come – they must mean a lot to you.”

“I barely know them, actually,” she admitted. At his look of confusion, she explained, chest hollow. “A few months ago, I was recruited for this . . . elite team. We all had skills the leader needed, so he gave us a choice to stay where we were or _save the world_.” She rolled her eyes a little, feeling the bed shake as Rip laughed without sound beside her. “I know. So unoriginal.”

“You went, I assume?”

“Yeah. I didn’t have much to stay for, so I didn’t even think about it, really . . . I just ran.” Sara blinked hard, forcing herself away from the subject. The past was gone, done with. She did not dwell on it. Whether or not this was all about running away was not what Rip wanted to know; she didn’t even know the answer to that one herself. “So me and these people, we start going through time with some vague idea of saving it. At first, we didn’t like each other much. The team was like . . . milkshake and french fries.” 

She made a disgusted face, but Rip just looked confused. Patting him on the arm, she twisted slightly to face him more to explain, nostalgic smile playing at her lips now. “My sister, when we were kids – she used to dip her fries in her milkshake. Because she has no taste. The point is: it’s a bad combination.”

Rip prompted, “At first.” 

“At first,” she echoed back, tilting her head towards him as they shared a smile. “It changed, after the first mission. We realized we would have to at least work as a team if we all wanted to survive, that we had to pull together instead of all in our own directions.”

“It worked?” Rip asked, face hopeful but holding an edge of thought. “You’re good at reading people, you know. I should hope your leader knows that.”

“I think he does,” Sara said, laughing, waving her arms and refusing to explain when Rip didn’t understand. She shook her head as he pouted, wondering how much she could tell him. “We made it. Slowly, but we did it. Became a team. Then . . . I don’t know, one day it just clicked. We _cared_ about each other.”

“You were a family.”

“Kinda,” she agreed. The hollowness was growing every time she thought of her team, of her cabin not unlike Rip’s dorm room, next to Kendra and across from Ray. In the mornings, she would wake up and stretch until she heard Kendra’s humming as she dressed in the next room, waiting until she heard the other woman open her door to leave. They would knock on Ray’s door to wake him, for which he was always grateful and rewarded them with a smile that was sometimes all too blinding for that time in the morning, before walking to the kitchen all together. 

“You miss them,” Rip said. She broke her reverie to see him still watching her intently. Those eyes were as serious as she remembered them, always searching, but the wariness she usually saw to actually connect was gone. Seeing her look, he gave a weak smile, looking around the tiny room. “It’s okay, I understand. This is where I want to be – but sometimes, I miss my family, too. It is the sacrifice we make to protect others, to be alone.”

“No, that’s bullshit they spread to maintain control,” Sara shook her head fiercely, turning to him. Knowing it lay close, she kept her eyes on Rip as she took his hand, feeling it squeeze tightly back in her own when she laced them together. “No matter what, Rip, _never_ get used to being lonely. All that stuff about sacrifice and heroes burdens – it’s a load of crap. We’ve given enough. I know, I tried that way, but you know what?”

Rip made a face of amusement, answering dryly. “I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” 

“The best I’ve ever fought has been with my family beside me, knowing a friend has got my back.”

He looked uncertain, mouth falling open and closing as if he wanted to say something, but the words were failing him. Eyes trailing all over her face, he finally asked simply. “What if they got hurt? A Time Master has no connections so that he is never tempted to break his vows for anyone. If someone I loved got hurt . . . I don’t think I could do nothing, as would be asked of me. Is it worth the risk?”

“Love?” Sara nodded strongly, not quite sure why she knew it was something she had to say. A voice at the back of her mind told her that it was a bad idea, that nothing good could come of it; she ignored it. Rip deserved to feel everything while he still could, before the world stole his smile. “I suppose it’s down to the person. The people I love, I trust to make their own decisions – if they chose to fight, I will do everything I can to make sure they _keep_ fighting, but I know that it’s their choice as much as it is mine to do the same. Sure, I worry – but to see my sister saving people, inspiring them? I’m _proud_.”

“You believe in her a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do,” Sara grinned. As she thought about it more, it froze on her face, eventually falling to a small, but real smile as she caught his gaze. “Whatever pain or worry comes from her choice, the love I feel for her is twice as strong. I’d rather spend a day with someone I love than a lifetime alone.”

Rip nodded numbly. Her words appeared to be sinking in, breaking through the Time Masters indoctrination not to care; a flicker of hope sparked alongside the wonder in his eyes. Being a hero didn’t mean giving up a future of happiness or love, she was telling him, something he hadn’t quite been able to believe before. They lapsed into silence, hands still clasped together.

Sara thought it would feel awkward. It didn’t. It felt normal, as natural as breathing, to sit beside her friend and hold his hand. When he spaced out to think, she even rested her head against his shoulder gently, allowing herself to revel in the peace of the moment.

“You never finished telling me about them,” Rip eventually said, but made no move to dislodge her from his side. “Your friends, I mean. You told me they were your family, but never got around to telling me about the people.”

She thought about it, feeling her eyes start to grow heavy. As she spoke, her voice was faraway, the room fading out. “They’re good people, even though a few of them would argue about that. I think the reason we work so well together is that none of us really had a place in the world we left, so we’re sort of making it up as we go along and trying on the mission. Now, our leader, he’s the same. Distant, but he can never quite hide his kindness as well as he thinks he does. A bit of an asshole.” This time, she shook as Rip laughed, head bobbing as his shoulder did, the movement together. “He should smile more. Then there’s the little brother of the group, Jax. Now he can be a real hot-head . . .”

Spending half the time laughing at her own inside jokes and feeling Rip’s thumb rub back and forth along her hand, Sara sleepily told him about her little team as vaguely as she could, not wanting to give too much away but giving just enough to leave him with hope when the time came he realized it was him at the helm. She hoped it was enough. 

Without meaning to, they fell asleep like that, holding hands in the dim light.

*

The next day, Rip checked in on her in every break he had. Sitting with her for five minutes between classes and bringing both of their lunches to his room, damn the consequences of being absent, he filled the small space with chatter, telling her about the class he had just had or digging for more information about her life. It made the hours pass quicker, for which Sara was thankful.

For the first time he looked into the room, apprehension was written across his face. As soon as he saw her still there, however, Sara noted how his expression brightened. Lines fell away to a grin. After the first few times he checked in that day, he stopped looking surprised that she was still there. 

He never stopped looking grateful at the sight of her, though.

She felt bad the first time she noticed this reaction, looking to the floor, but Rip didn’t hold any grudges. He was through the door talking excitedly about timeline preservation a second later, throwing himself onto the bed to shake her off it, causing an impromptu fight he lost a minute later.

It wasn’t a bad way to spend a day. 

For dinner that night, Rip dropped off a plate before announcing he needed to get something, leaving her confused, the food tasting bland as she ate alone. It left her feeling oddly put out, to be left on her own, the room suddenly too quiet, even the small space feeling vast without the feeling of somebody else being beside her. Sara ate quickly and sat on the bed, cracking her knuckles and playing with her hands as she waited for him to get back, itching to do something, out of nowhere. 

It had been a day since she saw anything but those four walls. When Rip was added into the mix, it was a privilege, not a burden; alone, it was constricting.

By the time he returned, she was just about ready to break out if only to feel the air on her skin for the first time that day.

“Rip!” she said his name in a sigh as he came in, relief at his return flooding to her as she got to her feet. Realizing how it looked a foot away from him, she paused awkwardly, not really knowing why she had raced to her feet at his entrance. Seeing this, he just grinned, looking proud of himself as the door shut behind them – and held a bottle proudly between them a moment later. She took it, looking it at and back to him, “What’s this?”

“Technically, we’re not supposed to leave the Academy.”

“- Why am I sensing a ‘but’?”

“Because there’s this place in town, it serves . . . whatever it is that you’re looking for, really. It’s frowned upon, but I happen to know a lot of cadets who are frequent visitors,” Rip spoke the words awkwardly, like someone caught doing something they knew was wrong. Although suggestive in tone, he didn’t meet her eyes as he told her this, blushing slightly. 

“Ah,” Sara nodded, relieved that he hadn’t just left to be alone for a while. It was oddly sweet that he had gone to all that effort to get them a drink. “So time changes, but students’ getting drunk illegally doesn’t.”

“So to speak. I thought we deserved something to celebrate our successes so far, and this place is known to stock only the finest of items procured through time,” Rip announced, producing two glasses in his other hand and taking the bottle back, walking over to the desk. Setting the glasses down, he filled them a quarter with amber liquid, turning back to Sara with one glass outstretched. “I’m told this particular bourbon was made in 1781 as your American forefathers celebrated a battle at Yorktown.”

Now, Sara had a reputation for drinking just about anything, as tested extensively by Snart and Mick. The quote-unquote ‘gasoline tasting shit’ she had downed with a smile had left even Mick in quiet awe of her for a few days – until the next challenge had started up. That time had been arm-wrestling, and ended just as well as any of them expected. 

She told none of this to Rip as she accepted the glass, seeing he wanted to say something and waiting for him before drinking. 

“To old friends, and hopefully,” he spared her a nervous look, “New ones.”

All Sara could do was smile, tap their glasses together, and drink up. While she could drink just about anything and probably would, even she would admit the smooth burn of the bourbon was good. 

“C’mon,” she said, grabbing the bottle and collapsing onto the bed the way they had sat the night before. Pouring herself another drink without the eloquence Rip had managed, sloshing the liquid into the bottle at a greater volume than he had, she waited for him to sit, small smile playing on his face, to fill his glass in the same way. “So . . . do you frequent this den of sinful items often?”

He snorted with laughter at her tone, choking on his drink. Coughing, he had to sit forward so she could thump him on the back until it fizzled from coughs to laughter, freely spilling from his mouth. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say _often_ -”

“I’m _very_ disappointed in you. What kind of example is this to set to guests?” Sara joked, but genuinely couldn’t believe it. Rip: all-work-and-no-play Rip, spent his nights at the Academy at some illicit student bar and broke the rules like they were piñatas. She couldn’t wait to tell the others. When he simply snorted incredulously at her words, she made a sound of fake-offence. “Hey! You don’t know me that well.”

She pouted, punching him in the arm at his laughter. 

“I may not know you well yet,” Rip only replied, leaning away from her punch. “But I know you _well enough_. And judging from the way you drained that first glass-”

Sara just cracked up, cutting him off and relenting. “Alright, alright. You did good with George Washington’s stolen whiskey.” Unable to resist one more joke, she added. “Time Masters: the world’s biggest klepto’s. Is there really a market for all this stuff? You just go back in time and steal things?”

“Yes,” Rip replied simply. “I believe an alternative name for it would be ‘archaeology’.”

She laughed out loud at that, his own joining her a moment later. For the rest of the night, they drank and talked easily, giving up on the glasses halfway through the bottle and instead just passing it to over another to take swigs. On the Waverider, a drink either meant someone had died, or they had managed to barely not-die on a mission. 

At just drinking together for the hell of it, because they were friends and she liked the way Rip’s eyes gleamed when he talked excitedly and the sound of his laughter, Sara felt her heart lift. 

“Okay, okay,” she said, waving her hands. It was time to play a game they had played on board the Waverider, something Rip would never participate in. “You told me about all those places you want to go in the past, but like – if you could fight any historical figure, who would you fight?”

Rip’s face turned red with laughter, and their arguments about which founding father would win in a fight lasted half of the night.

*

As soon as Sara became aware of waking up the next morning, she knew something was different. For one, she wasn’t cold, as despite the fact Rip had given her the only blanket to sleep hidden under the bed with, she still woke shivering the morning before. This time, she woke slowly, the lull of the warmth around her keeping her dazed, only half aware.

If questioned, she could claim this was why it took her so long to realise _why_ she felt different.

It was only after a few half-awake minutes, kept in a state of sleep by the warmth and gentle rise and fall rocking beneath her head, that she noticed that the floor moving was odd. That was when she blinked sleep away, frowning as she lifted her head slightly to find that she wasn’t sleeping on the floor – but was curled up next to Rip in the bed, the rhythm of his breathing rocking her head, which lay on top of his chest. 

Without moving too much, she tried to look around. 

It didn’t seem like anything had changed in the room, there was no sign she had been seen. Too content to move, she put her head back down, feeling the arm around her back settle again as she did. Against her skin, the grey flannel button-up that made Rip’s pyjamas itched slightly, but at least it felt different than her suit, which she had refused to take off for days.

She still didn’t want to lose her suit, but it felt like she was always a second away from leaving by never taking it off. The pyjamas might have been scratchy, however as a change from sweat and leather - it felt like bliss. One of her legs had ended up between Rip’s as she lay facing him, half sleeping using him as a pillow, so she felt the same scratch on his legs. As she moved, it must have woken him, for the leg bent at the knee and she had to shift slightly as he tried to sit up.

“Sara?” he asked, as confused and groggy as she had been a moment before.

“Shhhh,” she instructed instead. While she didn’t want to talk about how comfortable it was to sleep with him in the most innocent sense of the word, an awkward conversation she would put off as long as she could, not talking also had the benefit that she also didn’t want to actually wake up. “Five more minutes.”

Turning, Sara moved so that she could lie on her side now, back to Rip, but grabbed his arm and draped it around her as she rolled into that position. Keeping a hold of his arm in front of her, she felt a tiny breath of laugh against her hair and on the back of her neck, Rip’s warmth moving closer as he accepted that he wouldn’t be moving for a while a second later.

“Okay, Sara. Just this once.”

He stayed that way until her breathing evened, and she slept soundly again.

*

Rip was gone the next time she woke up, but returned with lunch halfway through the day.

“Hi,” he said as he walked in, handing her an apple and sandwich. Handoff complete, he backed away a few steps, barely glancing up to hand her the food, shoving his hands in his pockets in his retreat. A blush caught his face. “I, uh – there was a choice of fruits, but I thought everyone likes apples, so . . .”

“Wow,” Sara replied, smirk creeping onto her face as she realized the source of his skittishness. “Rip. Hey, look at me,” she waved her hands and he replied, blush reaching the tips of his beard now. “We shared a bed. It’s no big deal. Don’t get all British on me now.”

“I-” Rip open and closed his mouth, deciding on pouting. “That’s an ancient stereotype, I’ll have you know, and -”

“You’re keeping it alive and well?” Sara teased, biting into her apple. When he looked at her, face a picture of disdain but still beet red, she patted the bed beside her. “Sit.”

He did, mostly because there was no room for argument in her tone. 

“Listen-” 

“I liked sleeping with you,” Rip cut in, before she could start speaking. That alone stunned her into silence, as he cringed at his choice of wording, not quite meeting her eyes. “The last few days, I’ve liked you being here. Even back home there are few times I’ve actually been close with people; let them in-”

Sara shook her head, asking quietly. “Don’t.”

“I need to say this. You need to know,” Rip looked back at her just as fiercely. “You claim not to be a hero, but you are to _me_. When I came here, I thought I never would be . . . well, that I would never be a real person again, that my only choice was to be alone – you changed everything, Sara. You changed what I thought my future would be.”

Half-pleading, Sara tried to stop him. “Rip, think about what you’re saying. You don’t mean it-”

“I do,” he argued, fully looking at her now. Suddenly, he reached forward, hand cupping half of her face, catching the hair behind her ear. The touch brought with it a jolt of electricity, the intensity of his eyes a few inches away showing no doubt, no hesitation. “I know my own feelings, Sara. And you showed me – you showed me that a life in dedication to others did not have to come at the cost of your own. I care about you.”

Although she did not push him away or stiffen at his touch, instead sinking into it, Sara’s reaction was not in a good way. She did not lean towards the touch gently, but with an exhaustion that was years in the making. Because giving Rip hope had been easy: that did not mean she believed her own words. She loved her family, deeply. 

Anything apart from that? She had Oliver and Nyssa, both of whom she would always love in some capacity, but look how both of those relationships turned out. Blood and death. That’s what her love brought; a moment of bliss, then a lifetime of mistrust.

In her future, Sara did not see love again. She saw herself clawing back some redemption, earned piece by piece, fighting and trying to make something of her second chance aboard the Waverider. 

Another early death, probably just as bloody as her life had been.

Objectively, she knew she could feel happiness. She _had_. She knew her found-family had brought her that, and a semblance of peace – but there, always there, at the edge of her mind, she knew there was a limit on that closeness. Someday soon, she might love them. But she would spent the rest of her life second guessing their love for her, because at the end of the day, who could love a monster?

The last few days had been simple. To let Rip in, know him a little better, store away tiny scraps of information to help his older self when she got home. It was simple, however, because ultimately it didn’t mean anything. She had a finite amount of time with this version of him, a few days at most; a blip in the timeline that was never supposed to happen, so could have no consequence.

It was supposed to mean nothing.

Except now, this felt like something.

“I – okay, I need you to listen to me now. Promise me?” she started, leaning forward to dislodge Rip’s had from her face but not arguing the way it came to rest on her arm, hers the same on his. She received a solemn nod in return. “Here’s the thing: it would be _easy_ for me to love you. It would be. Because I’m the same: in my life, I have only loved very few people . . . but that never ended well. But, every time, I meant it. I never do anything by halves.”

Rip smiled knowingly, hopefully. “I’ve noticed.”

A soft laugh managed to break free of her lips, but it was wet, tinged with the shadow of sadness looming over her every word. “But here’s another thing: I have to leave. No matter – no matter what happens, that is a fact. I don’t belong here.”

“Neither do I.”

“Yes, you do,” Sara said softly. “You were born for this. It’s in your blood, Rip Hunter. Now, you’re gonna become a Time Master and live a life, and it is going to be amazing. You _will_.”

“But you still have to leave,” he nodded sadly. “I understand.”

“It would have been a good dream, to pretend otherwise,” she admitted, biting her lip. When she blinked, a trail of dampness crossed her skin. Despite this, a smile remained there, as bright as it was sad. “I’m glad I know you. I won't ever regret that.”

Nodding; accepting, gentle as ever, Rip squeezed her hand. “And I will not forget these days, Miss Lance. Or anything you have taught me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He didn’t understand, but he didn’t have to. Until the last possible minute Rip could without missing class, they sat like that, in quiet mourning of what could have been.

*

That night, they slept the same way they had the night before, tangled together, quietly ignoring the pressing weight of the world. Rip held her in a way that nobody had in years, pressing his lips to her forehead in a ghost of a movement that made her shiver. It was warm in their bed, safe from just about anything. 

Except this time, lines were drawn between them. Each knew that the time spent feeling that way was running out, trickling through their fingertips like sand through an hourglass. 

If they pretended they weren’t thinking about what if’s, they would be lying. If they had met under any other circumstances, in any other time, in any other place, in any other way, they could have been happy. They would still be the same people – Rip a man who would sacrifice himself to save a stranger, and Sara someone who gave with every inch of her soul. As long as two people so similar yet balancing had met in any other timeline, they would have made it.

_If_. The loneliest word ever created by man, as soon as he enslaved himself to such meanings, and denied himself the simplest pleasures of life. 

_If _.__

__If it was true that infinite other universes existed, stacked up next to one another like dominoes about to topple, those other realities must be true in at least one of them. Somewhere, their what if’s were a reality; they met, did this all over again, and were together. In at least one universe in his godforsaken plane of existence, they were happy. They _had_ to be. _ _

__The last thing she heard was Rip’s whispered words quietly against her head, as at last they fell asleep._ _

__“It was a beautiful dream.”_ _

__*_ _

__Of course, it was just their luck that it turned out to be their last night together. The next day as they sat after dinner, talking about dreams they had kept locked away in boxes for years, Sara’s communicator clicked to life, crackling into sound for the first time in days._ _

__“-ara? Do you read us? Sara?”_ _

__Static and the muffled words emitted from the device she had thrown on the desk, enough to catch their attention. Instead of looking at it, however, Rip turned to her, face frozen with the recognition of the end. His eyes betrayed his fear, but he passed her the ear piece without a word, pressing it into her palm without bitterness or regret._ _

__He understood now. She had to go._ _

__Taking it up, Sara replied, her own voice sounding dead even to her own ears. “I’m here.”_ _

__“Oh, thank Devol,” Ray sighed in relief, his chirp feeling a slap in the face. He shouted something, but it was muffled; Sara heard other voices in the background before his returned crisply in her ear, her eyes never leaving Rip’s. “We’re here, but we need to leave, like, five minutes ago. Coming this close to the Time Masters is not safe. We’ve managed to track your signature to the place you teleported to, can you get back there for extraction?”_ _

__“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “Give me ten.”_ _

__“I’m not sure we can wait -”_ _

__“Give me ten.”_ _

__This time, she replied firmly, and shut her communicator off. In all that time, her gaze never left Rip’s. Wordlessly, they had spoken in that time – he nodded when she was asked about extraction, but that was all. Everything else, they didn’t have time to say._ _

__“I have to go alone,” she told him, still sitting on his bed. If this Rip saw his older self piloting the Waverider, she didn’t know what would happen.  
At first, he opened his mouth as if to argue, but at the pleading in her eyes, because she couldn’t argue with him now, she _couldn’t_ – he closed it and nodded again. _ _

__Sara stood. Bending over, she pressed a kiss to Rip’s forehead, closing her eyes as her lips grazed his skin. Her hand trailed from his hair, to his face, trailing down his arm until she held his hand, clasped as if in oath. In a way, it was. A promise was her next words to him._ _

__“Remember to feel _everything_. Fall in love. Smile because you can. Appreciate every moment this life gives to you,” she stated, each one tearing its way out of her lips fiercely, with conviction. “Become a Captain. See that universe, like you planned. Be good.” She tilted her head to the side, adding with feeling. “Be _legendary_.”_ _

__At every word, his eyes softened, his reserve falling away to affection. “I’ll try.”_ _

__Sara forced a watery smile onto her lips, despite the fact she could feel her heart breaking. “I’ll see you again, I know it.”_ _

__“I’ll count the days.”_ _

__“No,” she shook her head at that, forcing him to meet her eye. “That’s no way to live. If the last few days have meant anything to you, promise me you’ll do the opposite. Live for every day, and make each one count. Trust that we’ll meet again – but don’t wait for it.”_ _

__“You ask a lot, Miss Lance.”_ _

__“Because I know you’re capable of it,” she answered, squeezing his hand one last time as she stepped away. “You’re a good man, Rip Hunter.”_ _

__Without another word, and fighting the urge to look back, Sara turned on heel and left the room. Each step away was like walking on knives, the burn of his gaze on her back until the door slid shut, blocking her from sight._ _

__That Rip Hunter would not see her again for a very long time._ _

__Sara only had to wait minutes._ _

__At the extraction, there was a battalion of guards; as soon as the life she had been allowed a brief respite the past few days from came calling, it came in full throttle. In the midst of the chaos, the blaze of laser and weather guns, screaming and running – she caught of glance of Rip, through the haze of fire._ _

__A burning mirage of a familiar brown coat as she ran towards the ship, one look at his face told her that he remembered everything. The past she had just stepped into was already concrete. He _knew_. _ _

__Then he had to pilot the Waverider away from his former masters and any chance to talk was eaten away by the chase, a blur of the void and her friend’s distracting her, asking about what had happened, too bright and persistent and dragging her away. She let them, knowing it was a moment of cowardice. She would have to talk to Rip eventually, all she was doing was putting off the inevitable._ _

__But she let Kendra fuss over her and Jax yell at her for taking the bullet that got her there in the first place for a few hours instead. She would take their brand of crazy over having to talk about her feelings any day; the fight held no fear for her, not anymore._ _

__She was scared to death of talking to Rip, though. That thought sent her stomach flipping, hands going tight on the table top as they sat talking in the kitchen, heart hammering as she faded out of the moment in panic. Nobody noticed, her stay of execution lasting late into the night._ _

__*_ _

__It was dark on board the Waverider when Sara finally found Rip. The others had retreated to bed, but she had doubled back towards the main deck, knowing her fear was a band aid – better ripped off quickly. She had to speak with him now, before she lost her bottle forever._ _

__Rip was sitting in his office, two glasses waiting on his table._ _

__He had known she was coming. Of course he did._ _

__As she walked in, he stood up in his chair, just looking at her for a second. It was too much too soon, so Sara stopped at his desk, pointing at the glasses and remembering a bottle shared before – a long time ago for him. In fact, this one looked too familiar._ _

__“. . . The same?”_ _

__Rip closed his eyes with a huffed laughed, “No. Not even _I_ can make a bottle last that long. It is from the same era, though. Yorktown Bourbon.”_ _

__“Best damn drink in the universe,” Sara joked, lifting her glass. He tapped his own against it; for a few minutes, they sipped in silence, neither quite looking at the other, the electricity of things unsaid leaving a static charge in the room between them._ _

__She broke it. “I’m sorry, Rip.”_ _

__In an almost comical double-take, he blinked at her. “ _Sorry_?”_ _

__“I- I messed with your past and I had no right to. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but . . . I shouldn’t have let it get that far. As soon as I saw you,” she broke off, tears clogging her eyes which she angrily wiped away, furious at the shake which crept into her voice. “I should have run. I should have left. I could have – I could have ruined everything, your future, your wife-”_ _

__“Sara,” he cut her off, face still a picture of shock. He leaned towards her but she stepped away, still on the verge of tears. “Sara, I never would have fallen in love with my wife if it weren’t for you. I would have been too afraid, too brainwashed to ever think I could! You gave me that _gift_.”_ _

__“Should I have?” she asked, face twisting. Tears spilled down her cheeks, the man walking quickly around his desk to stand before her shaking form, “Rip, the man I met – everything you lost when you lost her, you would never have lost if I hadn’t gone putting those thoughts into your head. I did that to you. _I_ did.”_ _

__“Vandal Savage did that to me,” he said firmly, putting a hand on each of her shoulders. “What you told me back then was right. Whatever pain I feel now, having lost-” he broke off, a fresh grief lighting up his face in a vulnerable way he had never let show in front of her before. “It is worth the pain, for every moment of joy I had with Miranda and Jonas before. Given the chance to do it all again, even if I knew the consequences – I would chose to love them, every time.”_ _

__She blinked up at him, unable to stop the flow of tears from her eyes. It had been an emotional few days, and she was too exhausted to hold back the flood. There was a glimmer of hope in them, now._ _

__“Sara, before this this, I thought I was alone. Even here, even with the team, I thought that was the only way for me to be, to not feel, to not get hurt,” he admitted this sorrowfully, regret in the set of his jaw. But he looked back at her with the same gaze she had seen on his younger self only hours ago, a determined affection. “Now I have you.”_ _

__“You always had me, even before,” she told him. “You’re my friend. As long as any of us are here, you’re not alone. You just have to let us in.”_ _

__“I know that now,” he twitched his eyebrows. “I guess you could say I had a learning experience. And I’m glad that I did.”_ _

__Sara’s head tilted to the side, “How long was it? For you, I mean.”_ _

__“Too long,” he answered, looking a little tired in that moment. His eyes ducked away from her, focusing on his drink as he sipped from it. “It was you who gave me everything I needed to assemble the team. The first time . . . _this_ time – I’m still confused by the change. When I assembled the team without those days, I didn’t really think we stood a chance. This time I had your words in my head about a family. It changed everything. You changed everything. _Again_.”_ _

__Her lips pressed together, almost a smile. In a moment, he had reached out to touch her cheek the way he had before – years for him. A day for her._ _

__“I thought of you, sometimes,” he said quietly, adding quickly when she looked up. “I kept my promise! I lived my life. But sometimes . . . I dreamt about the strange girl I had met and her stories of heroes. I wondered where you went.”_ _

__“Now you know,” she said. “I’m here. Still your favourite assassin.”_ _

__“That’s not why I chose you,” Rip told her firmly, turning her chin up with the hand on her face. The truth of the words shone in his eyes. “Remember, you never told me that back then. I chose you for _you_.”_ _

__“I-” she broke off, sighing before she replied, wanting to look away but not quite able to. “I knew I should tell you. Old-you, I mean. But . . . he thought I was a hero. I just wanted to be the person he thought I could be for a little longer.”_ _

__“What you have done doesn’t matter to me. You’re still that same Sara Lance,” Rip said, smiling proudly at her. After a moment, guilt flickered in his eyes as he stepped away. “I regret that I am not the same person you met back then. He . . . I have kept that part of me buried for far too long.”_ _

__“If I’m the same, killer and friend, then so are you,” Sara told him. She closed the distance again until he was backed against the desk, unable to escape her gaze. She took his hand, “Hey, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to fix me and ignore the same thing in yourself. The Rip I met was different, yes – because he hadn’t been through what you have. I trusted both versions of you, though.”_ _

__“I have done very little to earn that, this time.”_ _

__“You’re kind. I saw it, even before. I saw the way you were with Kendra after Carter died,” Sara told him, refusing to let him do that. She had seen the video footage from the med bay, the moments after Carter had died. Kendra had awoken panicked and screaming; Rip had soothed her until the sedative kicked in. Just as he had held a hand out to her as guards approached in a hallway years ago, he did the same for people now. “ _That’s_ the Rip that saved me back then! You’re still him.”_ _

__The gratitude on his face was overwhelming when he looked back at her, “I guess we’re both still trying to find our best selves.”_ _

__“Then it’s a good thing we’ve got each other, then.” She saw a softness grow in him at that, nodding as she squeezed his hand tightly. “It’s good to see you, Rip.”_ _

__“You too, Miss Lance. I am glad our absence this time was shorter than the last,” Rip said, smile pressing his lips together. It wasn’t quite the grin of his Academy days, but it was closer, a hope there that had not existed before. He raised an eyebrow, “So I’m a bit of an asshole that needs to smile more, huh?”_ _

__She laughed at hearing her words echoed back to her, rocking on the balls of her feet. Aiming a teasing punch at his side, he caught her hand, letting her fingers slide into place, into locked with his._ _

__It wasn’t much, just a soft look and a spark of hope. It wasn’t sleeping in the same bed, warm and safe. It wasn’t the what if’s of those few days. It couldn’t be love. Not yet._ _

__“You’re a good man, Rip Hunter.”_ _

__But it was _something_. And they had all the time in the world to find out what._ _

**Author's Note:**

> I still feel like there's something missing from this, and I know it falls apart at the end. Will probably edit at some point during the future - but I hope you liked anyway!
> 
> Got to sneak in a lot of my own headcanons, including that Rip's coat used to belong to Ted and that Booster gave it to him before he started at the Academy. Because, super-hero family legacy and all that jazz. And Ray swearing on scientists (Devol made the first robot) because he's a human cinnamon roll. and Team Legends breakfast routine.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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